The Hunted

Chapter Two

            CHAPTER 2

Far across the country, twenty horseman, dressed all in black, with red capes flowing from their shoulders, galloped across the plains of Ishrack. Their charge: to find a boy, a boy they had spent their lives searching for. As had their fathers, and their fathers before that. And to bring him before the Emperor. Alive. The boy's name was Tor.

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Only a few leagues ahead of them, another party of riders were ploughing their way along the Legion road. The horseman wore ordinary, brown travelling cloaks coated in dust from the journey. Underneath these they wore woollen jerkins, brought from a local village, which, like many of the roadside villages, had grown up when the Legion had built the road. Upon their sides they bore sharp dirks and, positioned carefully on their saddle pommels, were long broadswords from the finest smiths in the lands.

The leader raised his sword hand, signalling the riders to slow their pace. “We will soon arrive at the monastery. The utmost secrecy is required. Grab the boy and escape. As fast as you can. Good luck, my brothers!". He spurred his horse forwards and onwards, towards the dark smudge on the horizon that was the church of the gods.